


A Letterkenny Family Reunion

by Brumeier



Series: Family Ties [1]
Category: Letterkenny (TV), Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Cousins, Dysfunctional Family, Established Relationship, Family Reunions, M/M, Meet the Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 03:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17593436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: So your cousin shows up out of the blue the other day…





	A Letterkenny Family Reunion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squidgie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/gifts).



> Written for 100 Fandoms Challenge: teasing

“How are you related to this guy?” John asked, making the turn Rodney indicated.

“Cousins. Haven’t you been paying attention?”

John was driving because Rodney had his phone in one hand for navigation purposes and his data pad open on his lap so he could keep track of his latest simulation while they were on the road.

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“I don’t know. When I was nineteen maybe? He probably came to my grandmother’s funeral.” Rodney gestured with the phone. “Take the next left.”

The part of Ontario they were driving through was rural. Lots of farms, some with cows and one that had been populated by ostriches. John had volunteered to go along on the trip because, besides Jeannie, he hadn’t met any of Rodney’s relatives. And he was curious.

“You guys get along?”

“Okay, what is this? What’s with the interrogation?” Rodney twisted in his seat. “He’s my cousin. Do you need his whole life story?”

“Jeez, chill out. I was just wondering.”

John suspected Rodney was nervous. Not just about reconnecting with his far-flung family, but also about the reason he was seeking the guy out. Which was to sign off on a shared piece of land Rodney had decided he wanted to use to build a vacation home.

“It’s just, this part of the family…Let’s just say they’re rough around the edges.”

There was no sense pointing out that Rodney himself was rough around the edges. Besides, John kind of liked him that way.

“I hesitate to use the word ‘hick’ because that comes with certain negative connotations, but…it’s not inaccurate.” 

Rodney shrugged, like it didn’t matter, but John knew better. Jeannie and Rodney were pretty well matched, intellectually speaking, but John was under no illusions that he came from a family full of geniuses. That didn’t mean this cousin was stupid, just not off-the-charts brilliant, and of course Rodney worried that would reflect badly on him.

“My parents used to send me out here over the summer. They said doing some manual labor on a farm would build character, but I think they just wanted me out of the way.”

John reached over and squeezed Rodney’s knee. He was well-versed in Rodney’s childhood and his neglectful parents. John was no psychologist, but he figured that was part of the reason Rodney was simultaneously so prickly toward other people but also fairly open with his affections. He received plenty of intellectual validation, but never had enough on the personal side. John was working on that.

“This is it, on the left.”

John turned up the driveway and parked next to the white farmhouse. There were three men sitting outside and drinking beer, in front of a farm stand stocked with fresh vegetables. Hicks, Rodney had said. John could see it. The heavyset guy with the beard and the trucker cap was wearing overalls. The guy with the curly hair was wearing blue coveralls. And the third guy had on a plaid shirt and jeans. All three of them were sporting fresh bruises on their faces.

For a long moment they all stared at each other through the truck windshield, and then Rodney sighed and got out. John followed close behind.

“Don’t come any farther up the laneway before stating your intentions,” the guy in the plaid shirt said. His accent was a hundred times more pronounced than Rodney’s.

“Well, that’s a coherent sentence for a guy drinking Puppers at this hour,” Rodney replied dryly. “Shouldn’t you be milking cows or something?”

The guy’s squinty eyes widened momentarily, which was the only expression of surprise that crossed his face. John had the sinking feeling Rodney hadn’t called to let his cousin know he was coming.

“Cousin Rodney. How are ya now?”

“Good, and you?”

“Not bad.”

John thought it was interesting that the cousin, Wayne, hadn’t called Rodney ‘Mer’ like Jeannie did.

The big guy in the overalls gave Wayne a quizzical look. “You never saids you had a cousin Rodney.”

“He’s from _that_ side of the family,” Wayne replied.

Both his friends nodded knowingly. Rodney scowled.

“Funny, that’s how I describe you. Who’ve you been fighting with this time?”

“Just a little scrap with some degens from upcountry.”

“Sent ‘em running home to their mamas,” the guy in the coveralls said with a grin.

Rodney rolled his eyes. “Can we get on with the –”

“That your fella?” Wayne nodded at John.

Rodney flushed, as he always did when people asked if he and John were a couple. It was kind of cute, really, though John would never tell him that.

“This is John.”

“Wayne, you never tolds me your cousin was one of them homosex’als.”

John’s bemusement at the situation immediately dried up. Rodney’s cousin and his friends clearly liked to fight and if things were going to turn south, as they sometimes did when sexuality entered the conversation, John wanted to be ready. He subtly moved into a defensive posture, eyes scanning the three men to determine which was the biggest threat. His money was on Wayne, who was watching him with a keen, if squinty, eye.

“Not something that comes up during a meet and greet, Squirrely Dan,” Wayne said. “Also, you might want to reassure our guests that you’re not one of them homophobes.”

The big guy, Dan, looked aghast. “You knows I’m not!”

“Sure, we know,” said Coveralls. “But you can see how strangers might take that sort of thing the wrong way.”

“Well, I gots nothing against the homosex’als,” Dan protested earnestly. “I’m a proud members of the Neil Patrick Harris fans club.”

“That man’s a treasure,” Coveralls agreed. “You seen his family photos? Fucking adorable.”

“Don’t forget the accolades,” Wayne said, counting them off on his fingers. “Emmy, Tony, People’s Choice, Critic’s Choice.”

“He’s what you calls a renaissance man,” Dan said. “Only ways he could be mores perfect is if he was Canadians.”

“Ten-four, good buddy.”

John exchanged a look with Rodney, who merely seemed exasperated. He had no idea what was going on, but since he wasn’t being rushed by three farmers, he figured he could stand down.

“I’d really like to –” Rodney tried again, but once again was interrupted by his cousin.

“Darry, get a couple more chairs. Cousin Rodney, you still afraid of the sun?”

“You never tolds me your cousin had heliophobias,” Dan said.

“I never told you anything, Dan. Figure it out.”

“I’m not afraid of the sun,” Rodney protested at the same time. “I just don’t need the radiation giving me cancer.”

The guy in coveralls, Darry, went behind the farm stand and returned with two more lawn chairs. After some grumbling, Wayne got Dan to move so Rodney could sit in his shady spot on a wooden bench.

“Highly irregulars,” Dan muttered.

“So what brings you to Letterkenny?” Wayne asked, tossing John a bottle of beer. It was a brand he’d never heard of: Puppers. The label had a dog on it.

“I’ve been trying to tell you! If you’d let me get a word in edgewise –”

“Well. Get after it,” Wayne said.

John was pretty sure Rodney’s head was going to explode.

“I’m here about that property Great-Aunt Arwen left us,” Rodney said in a rush.

Darry turned his head and spit, making John grimace. “I remember Aunt Arwen. She was a real nice lady.”

“Oh, yeah. Super nice. She left us a little piece of property in Nova Scotia when she passed.”

“Wayne, you never tolds me –”

“Squirrely Dan, I _will_ fight you,” Wayne said tersely. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket. “Anyone wanna dart?”

Dan and Darry both took one. Rodney declined with a look of disgust, but John gave him a subtle head shake to keep him from starting a rant about the dangers of smoking. It was hard enough getting to the matter at hand with the continuous digressions and interruptions.

This side of Rodney’s family was weird, but oddly amusing.

“I want to build a house,” Rodney said. “I need you to sign over your half. I brought all the paperwork.”

“Hold up there, big shoots.” Darry leaned forward in his lawn chair. “You and Wayne own property and you just want him to sign it over? Where’s the compensation?”

“Gotta has the compensations,” Dan echoed.

“He owes me,” Rodney said, crossing his arms defensively. “He knows why.”

John fought the urge to butt in and ask questions, since he was just along for moral support. This was between Rodney and his family, and it wasn’t like Rodney couldn’t hold his own. He sipped at the beer. The Puppers wasn’t too bad, actually. 

“This about the time we dumped you on the Rez?” Wayne asked. That man must’ve been an excellent poker player, because his expression almost never changed. He’d looked vaguely annoyed the whole time John and Rodney had been there, if his stiff posture was anything to go by.

Darry, on the other hand, brightened right up and slapped his knee. “I remember that! Wayne and me both got whuppins on account of our folks having to go and rescue you. Never seen no-one raise such a ruckus.”

“Those kids were scary,” Rodney said, scowling. “They kept threatening to scalp me.”

“Well, now, that there’s a negative stereotypes,” Dan replied. “Indians don’t do that.”

Darry shook his head. “Check your history, bud. Scalping was a well-documented method of displaying human trophies. Of course, the white man partook of that grisly tradition plenty too.”

“Fucking white man,” Dan said darkly.

“About the property.”

“I suppose I do owe you for the Rez,” Wayne said. “Although, to be fair –”

Dan and Darry both chimed in with _to be fair_ , the three of them momentarily harmonizing before Wayne made an abrupt hand motion and cut them off. John wondered if he and Rodney had somehow slipped into a bizarre alternate reality.

“To be fair, you blew up the produce stand.”

“I wasn’t allowed to use my chemistry set in the house!”

Wayne took a log drag on his cigarette. “You were fuckin' awkward.”

Any further protests on Rodney’s part were interrupted by the arrival of a red Jeep coming up the driveway. There were two young guys in the front wearing sunglasses, and tank tops that showed off their moderately muscled upper bodies. There was a girl, too, that kissed each one on the cheek before hopping out. She was wearing a bikini top and shorts so short the pockets were hanging lower than the ragged hemline.

“I didn’t know we were having a party, boys.” She went right to the cooler next to Wayne and pulled out a beer.

“Would you put some clothes on?” Rodney and Wayne asked simultaneously.

The girl twisted the top off her Puppers. “Not my forte.”

“Unfortunate,” Wayne said. “You remember Cousin Rodney.”

“Huh. You the one who was scared of the dogs, or allergic to the lemons?”

“Both,” Wayne and Rodney said together.

“Jinx.” the girl said. “You owe me a coke.”

“John, this is Wayne’s sister. Katy.”

Katy had a decidedly predatory expression on her face that made John nervous. “Well. It’s my pleasure.”

“He’s Cousin Rodney’s fella,” Wayne said.

“Oh yeah? You drive on both sides of the road like Cousin Rodney, or you prefer one-way streets?”

“One-way streets,” Rodney answered for John. “And I’ll thank you to stop drooling over him.”

Katy swiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb and gave John one last, longing look before folding up gracefully in the grass next to Wayne’s chair. “To what do we owe the honor?”

Dan spoke up before Wayne had the chance. “Seems your Aunts Arwen left property to Waynes and Rodney, and Rodney wants Wayne to signs it over. No compensations, on account of Wayne and Darrys dumped Rodney at the Rez, but only because Rodneys blew up the produce stand.”

“Accurate summation, Squirrely Dan,” Wayne said, saluting him with his beer bottle.

Katy huffed out a laugh. “So much crying. I remember.”

“Are you going to let me have it or what?” Rodney snapped, face red. “It might surprise you to know that I’m actually a very busy person who doesn’t have a lot of free time.”

“Some sort of scientific genius is how I hear it,” Wayne said. “Lots of heroic derring do.”

“You’re a scientist?” Darry asked. “You know Neil deGrasse Tyson? That guy knows his space.”

“Carl Sagans was there first,” Dan said. “And he wasn’t so flashy abouts it.”

“How do you know what I do?” Rodney asked suspiciously.

There had been talk of declassifying the Stargate program, a lot of talk, but so far it was still a secret from the population at large. John was just as interested to know how Wayne had heard about Rodney’s heroism.

“Jeannie sends a Christmas newsletter.”

Rodney sent John a look that was equal parts annoyance, dismay, and hurt. John knew she’d never sent her brother any newsletter, at Christmas or otherwise, but he also knew she’d never reveal anything classified. So any tales of so-called derring do were probably vague at best. John made a mental note to talk to her.

“What do you want the property for?” Katy asked.

“Oh. Well, John and I…We’re stationed pretty far away most of the time and we –”

“Just kiddin’. I don’t give a fuck. You gonna do it, big brother?”

Wayne and Rodney studied each other for a long moment, and then Wayne dumped out the rest of his beer. “Never been to Nova Scotia. No time to go farther than Quebec.”

“Is that a yes?” Rodney asked hopefully.

“Let’s do this proper. Bring whatever you want me to sign.”

Everyone decamped to the house. Rodney and Wayne sat across from each other at the small kitchen table, the rest of them standing around like bodyguards. There was a bottle of whisky on the table – again, some brand with dogs on the label – and Rodney and Wayne both had a full shot glass in front of them.

Wayne, who seemed to do everything stiffly, signed the paperwork Rodney had brought with him. As soon as he put his pen down, both men tossed back the whisky and knocked their empty shot glasses twice on the table.

“Good enough,” Wayne said.

“You know, we won’t be using the house that much. Once it’s built, I mean. If you ever want to take a vacation or something, you’re welcome to use it. I can put that in writing.”

“Appreciated,” Wayne said.

Katy poured everyone a round of whisky, and John joined in the double knock of the glasses on the table.

“You’ll stay for supper,” Katy said. “It’s not often we see family.”

John shrugged when Rodney looked over at him. “Fine with me.”

The hicks were growing on him. They were coarse and a little odd but seemed like good enough people. And they were Rodney’s family.

“I got some ‘berta beef I can throw on the grill,” Wayne offered.

“You marinate that?” Rodney asked, which led to a lengthy, heated discussion of different grilling techniques between him, Wayne, Darry, and Dan.

Katy sidled over, a fond look of amusement on her face as she watched the other men squabble. “Welcome to the family, John.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** We’re ignoring the actual age gap between Rodney and Wayne. Just cause. Also, I didn't want to write any more Letterkenny, especially when I'm working on deadline fics, but when I got the thought about Rodney and Wayne being cousins I just couldn't help myself.


End file.
